


you and i might not/just be the best thing

by korilove



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Canon Typical Swearing, Eventual Happy Ending, First Kiss, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Sexuality Crisis, adam has an epiphany about being bi anyway, bc its ronan and adam and they can't do anything right the first time, be warned its slightly smutty, first kiss goes terribly wrong, its not terribly graphic but just in case, kind of?, this is mostly me working through my adam feel and my writers block all in one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korilove/pseuds/korilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows that Ronan will look away first - as much as he’s become an object of Ronan’s affection, he doesn’t believe Adam will ever return it. </p><p>Adam wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i must insist that you haven't had enough

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from "Haven't Had Enough" by Marianas trench.
> 
> Please go easy on me! this is my first foray into the fandom, and I'm coming off a 2 month dry spell of writing so it is possible this is very terrible. Either way, happy reading :) 
> 
> Thanks to [maggsam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maggsam) for reading this over for me!

_“Parrish.”_

 

_“For fuck’s sake, Parrish.”_

 

_“_ **_Adam_** _.”_

 

For the fourth morning in a row, Adam woke up on his tiny mattress in his tiny apartment, fast and furious and painfully hard.

 

He’d been dreaming of Ronan again - something that was pretty standard at this point, but not in the context it’d been the last few days. Ronan had weaved in and out of his dreams since they’d become closer: once the jealousy and territorial fights had died down and Adam finally started to consider himself an equal to Gansey and Ronan. The shaper and creator of dreams always hovered around his subconscious, constantly at his side through the mundane tasks his brain usually went through the motions of during sleep.

 

These dreams were _different_ , though.

 

These dreams were centered around the boy who was a weapon personified. Ronan’s hard gaze boring holes into Adam’s skin, Ronan’s full tattoo under Adam’s hands for him to trace endlessly, Ronan’s breath on Adam’s neck and ghosting over his hearing ear. Lips tentatively meeting before giving way to more desperate presses and tongues sliding against each other, Ronan’s mouth and tongue and teeth somewhere else entirely…

 

_No._

 

Sighing, Adam clenched his fists, feeling his racing pulse slow before throwing the thin sheets back. He would not think about this. He would take a shower - possibly a cold one - and then go to work at Boyd’s and keep all of this very, _very_ far from his mind.

 

Adam rubs his hands over his face in a last ditch effort to eviscerate the images and thoughts from his mind before swinging his feet to hang over the edge of the shoddy mattress.

 

The scratchy floor is cold under the pads of Adam’s feet, which had felt like ice to begin with. It must have dropped a few degrees in the night, making it feel like the dead of winter. Shivering, he forces himself up and makes his way across the 5 foot distance to the tiny bathroom adjacent to the rest of the apartment.

 

Adam lets the water run while he scours the bathroom for a clean towel, then hooks his thumbs through the waistband of his threadbare boxers. He leaves them behind where they fall on the floor before stepping into the tub.

 

The water pressure in the apartment is pretty shitty - the old showerhead continuously shifts from a slow trickle to a relentless torrent, but the water temperature is surprisingly easy to control. At least he had decent hot water here compared to what it had been in the double wide.

 

Adam ducks his head under the current slow drip of water and lets the dampness seep into the mess of his hair, and eventually over his scalp. His hand hovers over the handle of the faucet while he briefly considers turning it all the way to cold.

 

Since he’s already freezing, and he’s already starved himself off of doing this for the last few days, a flash of _fuck it_ passes over him. Instead of leaning the controls to cold, Adam indulges himself in a warmer shower than he - and his tight budget - would normally allow.

 

The water pressure grows stronger, forcing Adam to lean his head against the cool tiles behind the showerhead to keep the steady stream out of his eyes. It pummels his neck, flows freely down his back, curves down around the swell of his ass, snakes around his thighs before dripping onto the tops of his feet. The heat of it spreads over his skin and sends shivers throughout him - expelling the chill from his bones and sending throbs over his already painful cock. Adam sighs and wraps his hand around himself, shaking with the relief of it and he closes his eyes - but finds there’s an eerily familiar pair of blue eyes staring at him on the back of his eyelids.

 

_Ronan_.

 

_No._

 

Adam isn’t sure if it’s the fact that he lives above a _church_ , or the fact that his thoughts keep straying to a _boy_ , the fact that said boy is one of his _friends_ , or the the fact that the friend happens to be _Ronan_ , but something about all of it makes him feel a bit dirty, somehow.

 

Adam squeezes his eyes tighter and tries to get the images of his dreams out of his mind. He forces his brain to think about girls. Random girls; his old neighbours from the trailer park with their simple beauty and recognizable thinness that mirrors his own (that makes him feel worse). Blue and her fierceness contained in such a small space it should have exploded (making him feel guilty since she’d never been _his,_ not really). Orla and her orange bikini and legs for days (he can feel Blue’s accusing stare). He even briefly thinks about Helen, but he’d never been attracted to her - the only flutter he’d ever felt in regards to the eldest Gansey sibling had merely been an ego stroke.

 

The piercing blue eyes won’t fade from his mind, and Adam gives up trying to stave off the inevitable. He drags his hand rougher against his length, and the vivid image of Ronan bursts forward. The curve of his shaved head, the sweeping of his dark eyelashes, the broad shoulders and cut muscles, the sharpened ink of his tattoo poking out around his neck.

 

Adam whimpers.

 

The water slows for a moment before returning to a pummeling stream, and suddenly Ronan’s form is shirtless. Adam looks on as an extension of himself runs his hands over the expanse of the other boy’s chest. His eternally tanned hands snake around the pale skin - Adam can practically feel the breath expelling out of this _thought up_ Ronan.

 

He speeds up his strokes, twisting his wrist in a way that’s nearly as painful as his dick had been before he’d gotten out of bed. He watches the _not_ -Adam-and-Ronan lean into each other, heads tilting with the movements of a kiss. Ronan’s fingers catch in Adam’s hair, and he feels it tug on his own scalp.

 

And suddenly Adam can feel everything about the fantasy - the warmth of Ronan’s skin under his palms, the roughness of stubble scratching his chin, the softness of lips pressing against his, the jutting of Ronan’s hipbones, the satisfying grip of hands in his hair.

 

Adam’s blood is boiling and his knees are shaking with the force of pleasure creeping up on him, the hot water amplifying it. Fantasy-Ronan breaks away from his mouth, biting Adam’s lip before sinking to his knees.

 

_Ronan_.

 

And then Adam can feel the weight of different hands on his dick - the longer fingers, without the hardened callouses and scratch of chapped skin. _Not_ -Ronan swears, an eloquent thing that pulses right to the simmer in Adam’s stomach, shuddering under imaginary hands. Adam can see more of Ronan’s tattoo than he can ever remember seeing in real life, the swirling of the celtic knot, the protruding lines stemming from the center -

 

Ronan licks the head of Adam’s dick, demanding attention. Adam gasps and looks back into blue eyes that flit up to meet his before swallowing the entirety of Adam’s cock.

 

Adam swears as his release spatters against the tiled wall, the delusion of Ronan fading away from behind his closed eyes.

 

Adam’s never been happier that the clergymen spend Saturdays at the sister church.

 

***

 

Adam can’t ignore the feeling in his gut after that.

 

It’s as if now that he’s freely allowed himself to think of Ronan this way, he can’t stop. He opened the floodgates, and now his thoughts are consumed by it. When he wakes up in the morning, those piercing blue eyes look back at him until they fade away. His chest feels unbearably tight when he climbs into the Pig on Monday morning, he can’t tear his eyes away from the back of Ronan’s head in the passenger seat.

 

Noah’s snicker hums in his right ear, and Cabeswater murmurs ascent in his left, but Adam ignores them both. He knows he probably looks crazy, but he can’t bring himself to care, exactly.

 

“Adam!”

 

Adam looks up and makes eye contact with Gansey through the rearview mirror as the Pig slides into a parking space in the student parking lot. Gansey kills the engine before turning around in his seat to inspect further.

 

“Hey, you okay?” Gansey asks. Ronan doesn’t even move his frame, but Adam sees the eyes that seem to be haunting him flit into view of the rearview mirror.

 

Adam ignores the lurch his stomach does and gives a tight nod as Noah’s voice sounds around them, louder than it had been just in Adam’s ear.

 

“I think he’s a little more than okay.”

 

Gansey frowns but doesn’t ask, while Ronan shouts back, “Noah, stop being fucking creepy, man.”

 

***

 

Adam’s desperately trying to focus on his algebra homework, but the numbers and letters keep blurring together, forcing him to reevaluate every set of problems at least a few times. It’s beginning to wear on him - he can feel a headache coming on from the perpetual wrinkle in between his eyebrows.

 

Adam drops his pencil into the spine of the textbook and sighs. He rubs his rough hands over his face, willing his focus to come back. His distraction was starting to get a little ridiculous. Adam’s thoughts keep flicking back to Ronan in Latin earlier - slouched in his seat with an air that could only be called discontempt, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up to his elbows, his voice speaking foreign words with ease, a thin smirk on his lips.

 

Adam can still smell the ever present scent of mist and moss that seems to be tied to Ronan, or Cabeswater, or maybe both.

 

As if on cue, there was a bang at the door that could only be Ronan at this time of night. Gansey’s insomnia kept him confined to the walls of Monmouth, whereas Ronan’s left him feeling restless, meaning he ended up in the tiny apartment above the congregation more often than not.

 

Adam shoves his still open textbook off his lap, softly padding his way to the door. He closes his eyes to mentally prepare himself, blowing a sigh past his lips before turning over the doorknob.

 

Ronan’s leaning on the doorjamb, leather jacket slung over his shoulders. The tips of his tattoo are still visible and Adam has to fight from staring, or worse, biting his chapped lip.

 

Adam swings the door open further before turning back around to his bed. He hears Ronan shut the door and follow him to the corner of the apartment where the bed and desk are, and where Adam tends to spend most of his time.

 

Adam settles onto the head of his mattress and flips his textbook back open, but he has just as much patience for math problems as he’d had before. He tries to focus before slamming the the book shut. There was no way this was getting done tonight - especially since Ronan was here.

 

Ronan’s head quickly turns towards him from where it’d been leaning on the edge of the mattress, a slight look of confusion dons his features before the mask of indifference slides back up.

 

“Problems, Parrish?”

 

Adam shrugs, ignoring the raised eyebrows on Ronan’s face. “I can’t concentrate.”

 

“Is that so?” Ronan props himself up on his elbows so that his head is resting on the mattress and the rest of his body is obscured from view.

 

Not that it really helps Adam’s situation.

 

Adam tries ignoring the other boy’s miniscule taunt, but when he raises his eyes from his lap, Ronan is still looking at him. Specifically at Adam’s hands, which is probably why he doesn’t notice at first that Adam is looking right back.

 

Adam’s breath gets caught in his throat but doesn’t look away. He knows that Ronan will look away first - as much as he’s become an object of Ronan’s affection, he doesn’t believe Adam will ever return it.

 

Adam wants to.

 

Ronan shifts his eyes back to the textbook in Adam’s lap, scrambling onto the mattress to get a better look. The tips of fingers brush Adam’s thigh through the worn sweatpants he’s wearing as Ronan pulls the book out of Adam’s lap.

 

“Well that explains it, algebra is useless.” Ronan smirks.

 

Adam doesn’t even try to hide his laugh. “Maybe to you, Lynch.”

 

“No fucking maybe about it.”

 

Ronan drops the book back onto the bed in the space between them. There’s a pause, and they stay silent for too long for Adam to continue the conversation, but everything feels charged somehow.

 

Ronan begins to chew at his leather bracelets, the cracks in the worn material catch on the smooth lines of his lips. It reminds Adam of the images of his fantasy, standing back and observing rough and sleek blur together. It was still disorienting to think of himself - or Ronan for that matter - as one or the other, because they were both in different ways. Adam was rough lips and calloused hands but soft words and quiet stares; Ronan was polished lines contrasted with stark ink and angry actions with steady beats under the surface,

 

Adam felt anything but steady.

 

This time Ronan isn’t looking away - those piercing eyes slice through the dim lighting of the apartment, and Adam still can’t look away. Ronan’s wrist falls away from his mouth when he picks up on the shallow breath Adam takes. Adam watches, heart pounding, as blue eyes flit from his lips before meeting his own blue eyes, and back again.

 

Adam knows that sign - he’s seen it before. Mirrored in the eyes of a brown eyed girl from the dusty trailer park a few years ago. He’d mistaken it then, but he wasn’t about to now. Ronan wanted Adam to kiss him.

 

Adam wants to kiss Ronan.

 

So he does.

 

His hand catches in the divots behind Ronan’s ear as he pulls himself closer, slots his lips onto Ronan’s and presses a little rougher than he meant to. It’s completely different from how he thought it would be - Ronan is very still and Adam pulls back, scared he misread everything again. He was wrong, Ronan didn’t like him, he was unwantable, he was unknowable-

 

But then Ronan responds, gentler than Adam would have expected, but firm all the same. Adam leans closer and licks the seam of Ronan’s lips, not even attempting to hide the gasp that falls from his chest when they part. Tongues slip against each other and Adam can feel himself trembling before Ronan breaks away swiftly. Adam’s hand falls from Ronan’s face.

 

“What the _hell_ Parrish?”

 

Ronan looks like a caged Chainsaw, his movements are frantic as he scoots away from Adam, eyes snapping from the door, to his own lap, to Adam’s hands.

 

“I-” Adam starts, but his words fail him. _What is happening?_

  
Ronan stumbles off the bed and whirls out the door of the apartment before Adam can even catch his breath.


	2. one more last try, we just got the start wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I'm so sorry for the delay in getting my shit together and finishing this. Thank you for your patience! :)
> 
> Chapter title is from Haven't Had Enough by Marianas Trench!
> 
> This last chapter is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are completely mine. Happy reading!

No matter what Ronan used as a distraction, he couldn’t forget the feeling of Adam’s lips on his own.

 

Not that he really _wanted_ to.

 

He’d spent the rest of the night driving aimlessly, at breakneck speeds with furious edm blaring through the speakers. Ronan wanted more than anything to feel the thrill of racing - the adrenaline pumping steadily through his system, the roar of the cars, the control he exercised over a machine that could potentially end lives; Ronan’s, his opponent’s, a bystander.

 

If only he could control his body and thoughts like he could handle the BMW.

 

It didn’t matter how far or how fast Ronan travelled, he couldn’t outrun the events of that night. Adam had closed the distance between them and kissed him. Adam had _kissed_ him.

 

Adam had kissed _him_.

 

Wasn’t that what he wanted?

 

Ronan knew what his reaction towards Adam meant. He’d known it for a long time. He spent far too long looking and dreaming and _wanting_ . He just never expected Adam to look or dream or want _him_ in the same way.

 

Whatever it was that had made Ronan freeze and bolt was a maddening thing that was just out of reach. Whenever he seemed a little closer, it would slip between his fingers. He liked Adam - Adam seemed to like him. What was so wrong with that?

 

Everything, it seemed.

 

Ronan ended back up at Monmouth just as the sky was starting to lighten - the horizon was no longer a bottomless black, it had shifted into a faded lilac-gray that washed out the end of the endless night.

 

He slammed the driver’s door of the BMW a little harder than normal (or what someone else may have called normal for _Ronan_ ) and drug his feet across the gravel up to the factory’s door. Since speed, adrenaline, and senseless music hadn’t given him any clarity, Ronan would have to settle for drinking himself into a stupor.

 

***

 

“Not exactly what I’d call having your shit together.”

 

Ronan cracked a bleary eye open to the intruder into his room, only to see no one. His head throbbed and his tongue was dry, despite the acid curling up his throat to burn in the wake of last night’s choice of beverage. Which, unsurprisingly, he couldn’t quite remember.

 

He shut his eye as quickly as he’d opened it, but now he was undeniably awake, and most definitely hungover.

 

 _Adam had kissed him_. That much he remembered.

 

“About time, honestly.”

 

Ronan groaned before forcing his eyes open again, looking for any sign of a corporeal Noah. Only _he_ would possibly know what was happening in Ronan’s head, and would have such a shitty and ghosty answer for it.

 

Instead of shouting obscenities to an invisible spirit, Ronan sighs and makes his way to the kitchen/laundry/bathroom. Gansey is absent from his bed - which looks not even the least bit disturbed from the last time Ronan remembers seeing it. It makes more sense when he passes the microwave displaying the time - it was well past third period at this point in the day.

 

The refrigerator is scant in supplies to say the least, but the jug of orange juice is still present. Ronan uncaps the lid and swigs back as much as he can to quell the taste in his mouth.

 

“That’s sanitary.” Noah’s voice echoes throughout the room yet again and Ronan chokes on whatever juice he has in his mouth. The combination of his hangover and the choking is enough to send him into dry heaves, his forearms bared over the tiny sink.

 

“You shitbag.” Ronan manages after a few minutes.

 

Noah appears just then, sitting up on the countertop, a mere few inches from Ronan’s reach, and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Pot, meet kettle.” He says.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Ronan takes another gulp of orange juice before shoving the jug back in the fridge and slamming the door a little harder than needed. He tries to ignore Noah’s quiet laughter as he scrounges the cupboards for some type of pain reliever.

 

“You’d have better luck at Adam’s place.” Noah jeers. “He’s got a bottle of Advil that he hasn’t touched in years.”

 

Ronan turns back toward his ghostly friend. “Do you want to be thrown out of a window again? ‘Cause that’s exactly where you’re fucking headed.”

 

Noah just laughs, knowing as much as Ronan does that it's an idle threat.

 

Ronan goes back to his room, pretending he doesn’t know that Noah is following him. The last thing he needs is Noah’s friendly  advice (or meddling, depends on which way you look at it) on what to do now that he’s possibly ruined everything with Adam before it even started.

 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

 

“ _Stop_ that!” He snarls. Ronan would shove him, but it’s pointless because Noah is _weightless_. “Stop answering my thoughts, it’s fucking creepy.”

 

Noah shrugs. “You’re the one who won’t speak out loud. Not my problem.”

 

Ronan ignores him again, choosing instead to drown him out with his headphones. He blasts something incoherent and leans his head on the edge of his mattress before closing his eyes and blocking Noah out completely. His head screams protest in his temples but he doesn’t give in. The last thing he wants to do right now is listen to _Noah,_ of all people, try to give him a lecture.

 

When a few songs go by, Ronan sneaks a glance out past his eyelashes, careful not to open his eyes enough to be obvious. Noah is sitting beside him, watching him intently.

 

Sighing, Ronan moves the left headphone off his ear. “ _What_.”

 

Noah raises an eyebrow. “Are you ever gonna grow up?”

 

Ronan scoffs. “Are you?”

 

Noah holds a see through hand over his chest. “Who’s being a shitbag now?”

 

Ronan feigns indifference, but he and Noah both know he doesn’t really mean it.

 

They sit there, leaning against Ronan’s mattress for what seems like way too long before Noah speaks again.

 

“What are you so afraid of?” He asks, his voice soft and wispy, like a ghost's voice should probably be.

 

Ronan knows the answer. He’s afraid of people figuring out the real him. Of people realizing there’s something else deep in his core that makes him vulnerable. If people know there are ways of getting to him, he gives up the image. He’s afraid of who he’d be without it, all of it. The speed and the venom and the acidic comments and the righteousness. He’s also afraid of _Adam_ seeing the real him. Though, it might already be a little too late to be scared of that.

 

“I get that.” Noah says.

 

Ronan rolls his eyes.

 

“Adam doesn’t have to take away from that you know. He’s not going to change you. Only you can do that yourself.”

 

With that, Noah slowly dissolves in front of Ronan’s eyes, leaving him alone with his thoughts and frustrations. Even though he was a pain in the ass (and probably technically right), at least Ronan wasn’t alone when his ghostly friend could stick around.

 

***

 

**Gansey 3:41pm**

_Nino’s? Adam is coming with, and Jane is working. Bring Noah?_

 

***

 

The cough and sputter of the Pig’s engine stirs Ronan from his blank stare at the ceiling a few hours later. On one hand he wasn’t alone anymore. On the other, Gansey could have brought Adam with him from Nino’s. Or Blue too, but Ronan would resent her presence for _very_ different reasons than he would Adam’s, which was to mean not at all.

 

Still, he turns the music on his headphones up to _bleeding_ and pretends there was no one in the factory at all. Not Gansey, Adam, or Blue, or anyone else.

 

***

 

_What the hell, Parrish?_

 

The words had haunted Adam all day. He played the moment over and over in his head; the look on Ronan’s face, the way his heart pounded in his chest, the metaphorical _stupid_ sign flashing at him from behind his eyes.

 

For the life of him, Adam couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong.

 

Discovering the different parts of Ronan had been a disorienting and bewildering experience. From the first ‘ _completely indifferent_ ’ impression to all the different layers that had peeled away with time. Ronan: the devil of a boy, Ronan: the drunk, Ronan: the dreamer, Ronan: the fierce friend. Ronan at Aglionby, Ronan at Monmouth, Ronan at St. Agnes, Ronan at the Barns.

 

_What the hell, Parrish?_

 

This felt like a regression in the way Adam perceived Ronan, or at least the relationship between them. He’d been so sure of Ronan’s crush that it hadn’t even occurred to him to him to tread carefully in changing their friendship.

 

He’d possibly ruined one of the best things in his life at this moment, and it churned uncomfortably in his stomach.

 

Gansey had drug him along to Nino’s after school, but Adam hadn’t touched even a crumb of food. He knew that his body needed to refuel, but the turmoil outweighed the pangs of hunger he felt distantly.

 

Blue had sat and chatted with them for most of their stay, only getting up when customers would set off the bell that indicated the front door of the restaurant had opened. Noah had appeared just as they were pulling into the parking lot, and kept his fleeting eyes on Adam most of the time. It didn’t make him feel any less uncomfortable than he was already feeling, but it was concerning nonetheless.

 

No matter how he tried to focus on the conversation, his thoughts strayed to Ronan, and the enigma of him.

 

“Do you have a shift today?” Gansey asked him as they walked up to the till, his head turned over his shoulder to look back at Adam.

 

He nodded, drawing up to Gansey’s left. “Later though.”

 

Boyd needed him to close up at the garage, but only to cover someone else’s end of shift. Adam took whatever hours he could, so the mere two hours he’d work tonight wouldn’t distract him from everything.

 

Gansey hummed a small approval and ran his thumb over his lip. Blue tsked impatiently at them from behind the register, which prompted Gansey to hand over his card. Noah patted her hair until she was finished ringing the order through, at which time he pointedly faded away.

 

Adam ended up back in the passenger seat of the Pig, contemplating. He should really just go back to St. Agnes until his shift, but he had a feeling Gansey would want him at Monmouth. As oblivious as his friend seemed about money and the like, Gansey knew when things weren’t right with his friends.

 

Gansey swung into the driver’s side, leaning a bit on the steering wheel before speaking. “Could you help me with Latin? I’m afraid the conjugation of irregular verbs is causing problems.”

 

Adam raised his brow. “Ronan can’t help you?”

 

Gansey flicked his eyes to Adam’s. “I don’t think he’ll be in a helping mood.”

 

Ronan rarely missed class since Gansey had fixed things with the Dean, so Adam supposed Gansey was probably right. If his reaction last night had indicated anything, it was definite that he would not be leaving Monmouth today, let alone his bedroom to help Gansey, or anyone else for that matter.

 

Adam said nothing but Gansey turned over the engine of the Pig and steered the car towards Monmouth Manufacturing.

 

***

 

Halfway through the Latin homework, Ronan emerges from his bedroom.

 

Adam can’t help but to shift his eyes over to the sound of the door squeaking, but doesn’t lift his head. He watches Ronan cross from his room to the kitchen/bathroom/laundry, dressed in his typical black tank, but this time it’s paired with sweats. He looks haggard and the knuckles on the hand Adam can see seem scraped. Adam can feel the flush creep over his ears but keeps his head still.

 

Gansey had paused when Ronan’s door opened too, but he doesn’t resume their homework. “Did you two fight again?” He questions.

 

Adam shrugs, not trusting his voice to not give him away.

 

Gansey interprets his silence correctly. “Can we fix it?”

 

Adam looks up at him. “I’ll fix it.” He manages through the gravel in his throat.

 

Gansey nods and they go back to it.

 

Adam’s distracted though. He counts the minutes that Ronan’s out of view and his eyes trail his form when he comes back out, only to immediately retreat to his bedroom again. Even if he and Ronan can go back to how they were before, does he want to?

 

Adam’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

 

“Adam?”

 

Adam murmurs indistinctly as he turns his gaze back to Gansey, who has a quizzical look on his face. “You can go fix it now, if you want to.”

 

As much as he’s dreading having to confront what happened with Ronan, Adam wants to get it over with. He nods and leaves Gansey amongst the books scattered across the bed.

 

***

 

“Ronan?”

 

Ronan has his headphones on, sprawled out on the opposite end of his bed. The room is in it’s usual disarray - clothes scattered in piles from whenever Ronan had taken them off, the wastebasket overturned and the trash strewn about from Chainsaw’s ministrations, empty beer bottles clustered near the bed.

 

Adam leans against the doorjamb, his feet like lead in the doorway. He allows himself to inspect the boy on the bed - Ronan’s tank has ridden up to his navel, exposing pale skin from his mid abdomen to where his sweats are sitting low. Edges of the overly expensive and extensive tattoo curve out from his hips, and Adam swallows the swirling lust and discomfort in his belly before pushing into the room.

 

He tentatively sits on the edge of the bed and Ronan cracks an eye open.

 

“Parrish.” He says in lieu of greeting, his voice soft.

 

Adam waits as Ronan sits up and lifts his headphones off, a quiet and sweet melody spilling out from them. He stares at them quizzically until he realizes the music is a hymn. It must be an Irish hymn because Adam doesn’t understand the words that accompany the music.

 

“Adam.”

 

Adam tears his gaze away from the headphones and meets Ronan’s stare. “Sorry.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Ronan’s brow furrows.

 

“Gansey needed help with Latin.” Adam jerks his thumb behind him towards the door, knowing that’s not what Ronan’s asking.

 

“I figured that much out, asshole. I mean what are you doing _here_.”

 

“I-” Adam starts. They’re still miles away on the bed and he wants to close the distance and feel the heat off Ronan’s skin. “Are we okay?”

 

Ronan makes a face. “I don’t know, do you normally kiss your friends?”

 

The heat he wanted to feel from Ronan’s skin starts to creep across Adam’s face. “I don’t normally kiss anyone.” He says.

 

“Ever?”

 

“Just - twice, I guess.” Adam admits.

 

Ronan laughs darkly. “So who was better, me or Blue?”

 

“I never kissed Blue.” The blush starts to give way to annoyance, simmering a bit under the surface of Adam’s skin.

 

Ronan doesn’t say anything at that. He processes this information quietly and Adam wishes he’d just say something already. Silence was Ronan’s trademark, along with his piercing stare. Adam feels like he should be immune to them at this point from exposure alone, but he still can’t seem to will his heart to slow in his chest as he refuses to look away.

 

“Why did you kiss _me_?” Ronan asks finally.

 

“Why does anyone kiss someone, Ronan?” Adam hears his accent slip and curses himself inwardly.

 

“But you like girls.” Ronan spits, like an accusation.

 

“So?”

 

“ _So_ , it doesn’t make any sense.”

 

Ronan’s eyes cast downwards, ending the stalemate. He looks more vulnerable than Adam’s possibly ever seen him, the usual waves of confidence and bluster nowhere to be found. Adam doesn’t know how to make himself any plainer, and he isn’t willing to initiate something just to be shut down again.

 

But he’d told Gansey he’d fix this. He _wants_ to fix this. Even if it means he has to give up a little of his stubborn pride and be vulnerable himself.

 

In a quiet moment of courage, he reaches out and grasps Ronan’s hand. His thumb swipes over the soft skin on his knuckles, feeling every scar and line and dip. Ronan’s breath catches and Adam wills himself to look back up at him.

 

Ronan’s still looking down, specifically where Adam’s holding his hand. His breath comes out in a stuttered sigh before he meets Adam’s gaze. Those blue eyes that had been a constant in Adam’s head look even brighter and steely, and Adam’s sure his breath is probably just as stunted as Ronan’s, but he can’t hear much over the resounding throb of his wildly beating heart in his both of his ears.

 

Adam notices too late that they’re gravitating closer together; he can see every one of Ronan’s dark eyelashes sweeping across his cheeks as Ronan’s eyes flit down to Adam’s lips. He tilts his head and breathes Adam in, their mouths inches from each other and Adam can feel the heated sweat of nervousness grow damp in his palms.

 

Ronan stops when he's a breath away from pressing his lips to Adam’s.

 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his words softly drifting over Adam’s mouth, creating a chill that runs down his spine.

 

“ _Please_.”

 

It’s nothing like the kiss in the apartment above St. Agnes. Adam had been fueled by a desperation and frustration that had been ultimately overpowering and too intense, even though the kiss had been soft and short. This one is still intense, but it’s different. Ronan’s lips are careful and soft, so much more supple than Adam remembers. Adam clutches tighter to Ronan’s hand in an attempt to steady himself, feeling like everything is going to drop out from underneath him. Fingertips lightly touch Adam’s jaw as they break apart, only for Ronan to adjust the angle and capture his lips again.

 

Adam can’t help the small hum that leaves his chest, pressing back reverently. He’s equally in awe and entirely _not_ surprised at the depth of which Ronan kisses him, making him feel fuzzy. Ronan licks the seam of his lips and when their tongues brush lightly, Ronan’s hand tightens on Adam’s face. Adam feels completely out of control but yet completely calm, relinquishing all of himself to Ronan; lets him take Adam apart slowly, and it’s dizzying and steadying all at once.

 

“Make sense now?” Adam breathes when Ronan leans slightly away from him.

 

“ _No_ , but I don’t give a fuck.” Ronan’s words are scathing but his tone is anything but, with a hint of a laugh that makes Adam smile when he leans in again.

 

Ronan kisses him deeper this time, releasing Adam’s hand to pull him closer by the waist. He’s almost - well, pretty much - in Ronan’s lap but he can’t bring himself to care when Ronan’s kissing him like _this_ , his fingers tugging gently at the ends of Adam’s hair.

 

With his hands free, Adam pushes Ronan’s shoulders back, feeling bold enough to properly get into his lap. The moan that Ronan emits makes him feel a little giddy, the feeling spreading through him and settling into his achy bones. Ronan breaks away from his lips to mouth at his jaw and neck, his hands sneaking under Adam’s sweater. Adam relishes in the touch and the warmth radiating from everywhere their bodies meet. Everything narrows to _Ronan_ and Adam forgets about the stress of his day, forgets about his shift at Boyd’s, forgets about Gansey and Blue and Noah and Glendower, engrossing himself in being so thoroughly kissed.

 

Ronan’s phone buzzes after what seems like no time at all, and in typical fashion, Ronan ignores it, much too focused on Adam’s throat. Adam barely registers it, tracing invisible patterns over the tattoo he has yet to see in its entirety. He wants to shed Ronan of his tank and drink it in with his eyes, catalogue it with his fingertips, map it out with his lips, follow it to the edges until he hits uninked skin, wants to lose himself in the juts of Ronan’s body.

 

Just as his hands find the bottom of Ronan’s shirt, Ronan’s phone buzzes again. Frustrated, Adam reaches over to turn it off, but as he does, he sees the time. His shift starts in precisely 15 minutes.

 

“Shit.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Ronan grumbles against Adam’s skin.

 

“I have to go to work.” He sighs. He doesn’t want to leave, wants more than anything to skip the mere two hours of doing nothing and stay wrapped up in Ronan. Adam can’t though, he needs any money he can make to keep himself afloat.

 

“Seriously?” Ronan huffs, pulling away to look at Adam properly. Adam nods sitting up on Ronan’s legs. Ronan’s skin is flushed, his lips filled in deeper, his eyes blown out. Adam _did_ that.

 

“But maybe you could come by after?” Adam whispers, before he can stop himself.

 

Ronan’s grin is downright sinful, stretching out his lips and brightening his eyes. He sits up and kisses Adam again, just as weighted as before. It’s a struggle to pull away, but Adam reluctantly leaves Ronan behind in his bed.

 

Adam pauses at the door of Ronan’s bedroom, filing away the redness of Ronan’s lips for later before slipping through it.

 

He gathers his latin books quickly from Gansey’s bed just as Gansey comes in from the kitchen/laundry/bathroom. “Did you fix it?” He asks.

 

“You could say that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [here](http://nielminyard.tumblr.com/). Come cry with me about pynch or anything else really.


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